


The Empire's Greatest Threat

by ymeer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, ill change these later whatever, more characters later on too wooooo///
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymeer/pseuds/ymeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every timeline is different. When the Dolorosa fails to encounter her ward back in the caverns, she instead chances across a future much more rewarding, but perhaps not as kind. Finding herself fleeing from the empire, she decides to take part of a lucrative business that was anything but legal. </p><p>// yeah I'll change this later too</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this idea for a while, stay tuned for all kinds of stuff such as prostitution, heat, rebellion, alt timeline signless and gang, power shifts and the rest of the messed up stuff that comes from my head...first time writing anything, we'll see how it goes..

The caverns reeked. The combination of new life and fresh death pervaded the air as the Jadebloods went about their business. There were corpses to be tended after, the chamber of the mother grub had to be maintained, grubs escorted out, moved. It was quite a lot of trouble, seeing how so many of them were to die anyways. The ‘matrons’ went about their tasks in a uniform manner, all were assigned a duty and all were expected to stick to that duty till the day they died, if they did not the empire would reward them with a sharp culling fork for slacking on the job. Such was the way things went and the way things had gone for more than a few sweeps by the time the Dolorosa found it.  
  
When she first encountered the young grub her first thought was that she had never seen a tyrian blood up close. Not a full grown one, and she hoped she never would encounter one, for that would mean a run-in with the empress, something she doubted she would survive. The grub in front of her screeched as she approached it, flaring its fins in an attempt to dissuade her from continuing. It did not succeed, although it was correct in sensing danger. Along with being fully grown, the Dolorosa had been a rainbow drinker for just as many sweeps as she had been working in the caverns, admittedly keeping it somewhat of a secret. There was no need to publicize something that pushed her out of the norm.  
  
She knelt down, her body weary after a grueling day of transferring genetic material from the drone supply line to the breeding chamber. The machines had broken down momentarily, and there would be no slow in the process, she and her coworkers were forced to carry it by hand. She had watched as another girl, a bucket in each hand, tripped over a rock, falling and spilling the slurry she carried. The drones were on her before she could scream. It had been brutal, there was more than enough for the mother grub already, the material she had been carrying was not so precious she had to die. But there would always be more than enough of everything. That was why the empire was so quick to kill, after all. All of them, herself included, were dispensable.  
  
The small heiress-to-be hissed in front of her, bringing the Jadeblood’s attention back to the present. She had wanted a better look, she told herself. That was all. The grub’s fins were still protruding at right angles from her face, teeth bared, fuschia eyes gleaming in the low light of the cave. The plain black robes shifted as the Dolorosa reached out to it, lifting it up for a better view. The grub in her hands squirmed, trying to break free, this was, after all, life and death, and being caught in an adult’s hands was something that in most circumstances, would mean death.  
  
A blaring alarm sounded, echoing off the walls of the cave. It was echoed by screeching and yelling from some of the further caverns. She set the grub down, jumping to her feet to hear the address. The sound had meant someone had gone missing, now it was just a matter of who.  
  
“Maryam.” The grating voice of a drone pierced through the screeching in the background. She froze, hoping she was not going to hear what came next. “Porrim. Jade. Missing for five. Maryam, Porrim.”  
  
Five? Had she really been gone that long? Thoughts were racing through the panicked troll’s mind. She was going to be culled. She had spent too long here and now she was going to be hunted down and culled. Dispensable. Dispensable with a culling order on her head. She had to run. Her eyes darted around the cave. She knew this area well, but so did the drones. She needed somewhere unknown by most. Unknown by all would be best. The grub at her feet let out a sharp hiss, turning to the entrance to the small cave. Her breath caught, she was not going to die this way. Turning to the grub, she scooped it up, realizing something. This was a recreational block for Jadeblood workers like her sweeps ago, before Her Imperial Condescension had taken the throne, however long ago that had been. In other words, this being a recreational block meant that grubs should not have access to it. This grub should not be anywhere near here, but if there was a way in, there must be a way out. Following the scratch marks left by the grub’s body on the floor, she swept a foot over them, covering them up as she went along. The trail led her to a far wall. Kneeling down, she looked at the base of it. Sure enough, a crack had formed. It was small, easy for a grub to fit through. With enough luck she would be able to fit as well. The grub in her arms mewled, it had stopped squirming, sensing her urgency. She could not leave it here. Shoving it in the hole, she knelt down, following behind and hoping it would remain at least wide enough for her to move for its entirety.  
  
Water dripped down the craggy walls of the tunnel. It had opened up a bit as she edged along it. Her arms were scratched where the thick fabric did not cover them. The scratches, however, did not stop there. Her horns had gotten jammed at a particularly tight spot, and although she had gotten them out, it had not been without immense pain. She would have the scratches for life, however long she might live. The trusty heiress-grub had continued to make its way along the tunnel, chirruping to her every once in a while. It seemed to have grown fond of the Dolorosa, she had no idea what she would do with it if she escaped the caverns.  
  
A sound echoed up through the tunnel, a scream. This was not one of the youngsters crying, this was an adult. The escapee stopped scraping her way through the dank tunnel, pausing to listen.  
  
“Don’t-know-where-she-is! Don’t-know-where!!!” a voice called out, sobbing through screams. The drones did not frequently torture, and they would always kill after, but when they needed information they would go to any extent to get it. Shaking her head, the rainbow drinker continued moving. Whatever poor soul was suffering for her tardiness, it was nothing she could help.  
  
Suddenly the grub in front of her disappeared from sight. The shallow puddle of water in front of her, still rippling from the wriggler’s passage, began to shine a strange color. Only after a minute of studying it did the Dolorosa realize it was light, reflecting off the water and into her sun-deprived eyes. The refugee began moving faster as the tunnel began to open up into a small cave. Crawling out into it, she stood up and looked around. The grub cowered in the corner, avoiding the stream of light that beamed into the center of the cavern from a small hole in the top of the cave. The hole was not a great distance up, but she would have to find a way up if she wanted to escape. She did not see any other ways out, and her adjustment to light meant it looked like salvation from above would be her only choice.  
  
The grub started edging towards another small hole in the wall. This one, the Jadeblood regarded, was one she would most definitely not fit through. She was about to let it go, the grub neared the wall, or she thought it was the wall, her vision was going fuzzy. The rainbow drinker inside her was starving, and she had never yet dared for Tyrian. But here in front of her was a creature that would not be harmed by her, not really. The heiress might have two scar marks that she would attribute to a trial in the caverns, and never think of it again. The Dolorosa stumbled towards the grub, propping herself up against the wall. Royalboods were supposed to have healing powers, an heiress..well, it was said they had the powers to make one live for quite a long time, provided the taker was not killed. Scooping the grub up, she directed her fangs, somewhat regretfully, at the first furrow behind the grub’s head. It squealed, she felt a pang of regret.  
  
“My apologies” she muttered before sinking her fangs into the young grub, drinking until her vision steadied and setting it down again. Once it had stopped screeching in what felt like betrayal, she ushered it back to the crack in the wall before looking back up at the hole in the ceiling, feeling rejuvenated and prepared for the challenge.  
  
The black fabric which had once billowed around the Jadeblood’s slender frame was strung up as a sort of rope mechanism. She was standing in her undergarments, the repulsive clothing she had been required to don for her pre prescribed job was completely torn up to assist in the making of the contraption, she couldn’t have been happier. Having examined the hole at the top of the cave a bit more, she had discovered it had a lip of some sort, which of course meant she could loop something around it, hopefully solid, to help hoist herself up. For this purpose, she had chosen a rock, tied up tightly by a wad of black fabric. Gritting her teeth, she lassoed it around her head, tossing it up and trying to hook it around the lip of the hole. With a sense of victory, she achieved a steady hold on the rope, and after hanging off of it, she took a last drink of water from the floor of the cave before turning back to the rope.  
  
She had not had survival training from the Empire. They saw no need to teach their submissive mother-grub-tenders combat. One engaging in combat would most likely turn out to be dangerous to the welfare of the population and would be culled. However, she had at an early age trained herself in the art of fighting, and survival, as well as other less vital but just as enjoyable jobs such as sewing and design. She observed, triumphantly, that had she not helped herself then, she might have ceded to the drones and would have been stuck through with a culling fork by now.  
  
Hoisting herself up onto the rope, she swung for a minute, confident that it would hold, before starting to lug herself up. The grub’s blood had refreshed her, and as she started her journey upwards, she let the thought of that power her as her limbs started aching halfway up the rope. Rocks dislodged from the roof of the cavern dropped down below her, making a plopping sound in the pool of water below her. Quickening the pace of her ascent, she glanced up. The rock was holding, for now.  
  
As she reached the top of the cave she was greeted by a cracking noise. Her eyes flashed as she realized the entire lip had cracked, the fragile rock was near to snapping under her weight. Tugging one last time on the rope, she used it to propel herself upwards just as the rock fractured, the rope remaining in one hand as she hung on to the now flat ledge with the other.  
  
Tossing her makeshift rope up above the ledge, she grabbed onto the ledge with her other hand, legs swinging below her. Her arms were exhausted from the ordeal already, yet she could not let go. The distance was far enough that she would not be able to fall and remain uninjured, and there was no way out now except back into the breeding caverns. Gritting her teeth, she took the last of her reserved energy to lift herself up onto solid ground.  
  
The ground felt like salvation, at least for now. She knew the drones would now have her name in their database, they would always be looking for her. There was nothing she could do about that now, there was nothing she could do right now but lay on the ground, relishing in her temporary refuge.  
  
The sun baked into her skin, in just her underwear there was not much area it could not reach. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, looking around. Of all the places she could have escaped to, a barren wasteland was not the worst. Here she was, with a rope tied to a rock as a weapon, on the run from the empire for being minutes late to work. Nothing to do but continue, she told herself, standing up wearily and walking to grab her rope. Wrapping it around her neck like a weaponized scarf, she held the rock end like a mace, walking through the wasteland to what looked like a small outcropping not too far from her location, where she would at least be able to hide and formulate a plan of where to go, and perhaps find some more water.  
  
  
Back in the caverns, the search went on, completely ignoring a certain small red-hued grub as it edged along its long path to what would be its eventual doom. However, that doom would not come for a long time, as would be found. At the place where the small fissure the Fuschiablood had been pushed through ended, the small heiress emerged at last, promptly rolling over the small mutant. After a bout of hissing and intimidating fin-flaring from the seadweller, the Redblood calmed down, crawling up next to the other grub tentatively. Taking it as a signal, the older grub took off, leading its mutant cohort to eventual safety in the arms of an aquatic lusus and a strange friendship.


	2. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of her escape away from the caverns, and into an area that may be more populated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the last of the dialogue-less stuff I promise, next chapter up in just a little while

Something you learn after a while of surviving on your own is that there is nothing there to help you but yourself. This would and should be understood just from the words “surviving on your own”, but most of those who have not yet experienced it themselves seem to think that there will perhaps be a mite of luck to do with it, and that perhaps nature will be incredibly forgiving. In the case of the Dolorosa, as is the case with many others, it was not. 

Being well-adjusted to sun and brightness is not the same thing as being exposed to it for all hours of the day, and the eventual night, as she learned quickly. The small outcropping had harbored her for only a few minutes. After that, she realized she had to continue. Water and food were more important than catching ones breath and coming to terms with the situation she was now in. Picking up her makeshift rope-weapon, she continued her trek across the wasteland. The scrapes on her body and horns were the first to feel like they were burning, the pain reached such a level that she had to look down to check and confirm that she was, in fact, not set ablaze by the force of the sun’s beams. Her feet, which had been comfortable if unfashionable in the black colored shoes she had been made to wear, began to drag shortly after the burning sensation began. Her eyes felt as if they were going to water, only to find there was no excess water to aid them. She was parched, yet continued. What good was escaping if she was to end up dead? Pressing onward, she became oblivious to her surroundings, the world enveloping itself in a fuzzy, bright blur as she continued. 

A consequence of not focusing on what is happening around you is that you never quite notice when you are about to trip about something. The water-deprived rainbow drinker crashed to the ground, her foot trapped under a root that had protruded above the ground. Laying there, she attempted to push herself up, blinking her eyes open as far as she could in their dehydrated state. The colors were different; blue, pink? She lifted an arm, trying to grasp onto something to pull herself up. Surprisingly enough, her fingers wrapped around a scratchy branch. It pricked her, she could feel her blood seeping out onto the branch. She could not care less. A branch meant trees, which meant life, which meant water and salvation. There was no record of how long or how far she had walked in her trance, she herself did not understand how she did not die on the journey until much later, after which she made a distance of similar length, with more supplies and protection, back to the caverns. 

The tree was cool to the touch and she clung to it, catching her breath. She was exhausted, breathing in its life. Spending so much time in an arid wasteland made her appreciate it and all it stood for. If the ground above the caverns had been salvation, this tree and the life it gave her was some reassurance that her salvation would not go unheeded. She was to survive, to be resurrected in a way. 

The stream running by the tree seemed to be a spot for many untended lusii to gather. She was too exhausted to care about safety, running to the stream and drinking up as much water as she could. She washed it over herself, dropping her weapon and quickly stripping down completely before jumping in the rushing water. Dried blood, she found, required more scrubbing, and she spent the rest of the day getting clean. 

As the sun began to go down, casting an eerie shadow through the leaves, she finally left the refuge of the stream. Putting her sparse excuse for clothes on, she wrapped the rope around her arms and walked to the nearest tree. She could find something to eat after she found somewhere to safely spend the night. There would be trolls out on the floor tonight, and the risk of being recognized was too great. Gritting her teeth, she shifted her feet around in her shoes before wrapping the rope around the tree, twisting it in each of her hands as she slowly started to use it to climb the tree, letting it hold her weight when she needed a rest. 

Reaching a branch high enough to keep her out of sight, she released herself from the hold of the rope, clinging to the upward facing branches as she walked towards a fork she believed would hold her weight. Satisfied with its sturdiness, she nestled up to the bend in the branches, wrapping the rope around her to hold her to the tree before finally permitting herself to rest, hoping she would be able to sleep till dawn, when she once again would be able to travel under the protection of the sun, once her enemy and now her dearest ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've been playing too much tomb raider and it's starting to show...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember that bit about dialogue? i messed up sorry..next chapter

In Alternian history, sweeps after the events that even remotely involved the Dolorosa ended, it was long debated over who made the best out of a bad situation. Factors like luck, breeding, training, and pure ability were included. She was found to have won every time. Before the Dolorosa, however, one troll maintained a steady monopoly on the title of starting with nothing and ending up with quite a lot of something. In the end, his name would be forgotten to the ages, the only thing significant was the circumstance of his death and the foundation he had built. 

Carege Sinlar was very good at taking advantage of weaknesses. There were many weaknesses in the world around him, some could be strengthened and some couldn’t be. Some, he discovered, were made greater weaknesses by the supporting of other faults. One such weakness happened to be his own body, or rather, all troll’s bodies. The amplification of the crack in the otherwise impermeable armour of society happened because of the “preservation of the species”, or so the Empress liked to call it. Trolls without proper filling of their quadrants would be culled if no genetic material was provided. That was the rule, it made the species better, and it meant life or death. 

The Empire itself had a schedule for this kind of thing, this he knew as well. The schedule, of course, was based off of blood caste and mating cycles. A prevalent part of Alternian society, when virtually all members of a particular blood shade would shut themselves in with their respective conspicuent partners and provide for the drones. The increased level of hormones during this period, referred to by some as ‘heat’, would provide for increased desperation, especially if one was lacking a quadrantmate. Having, surprisingly, been the first to come up with the idea, Carege took full advantage of this weakness, and based his business off of it. 

None of this was legal, of course. It completely went against anything the breeding mechanisms ingrained into their society said. However, when a troll was between death and purchasing services to help them live another sweep, it was obvious which one they would choose. Thus his business blossomed, or at least it should have. The ruthless businessman that Carege turned out to be was counteracted by his inability to maintain a steady workforce. It was not entirely a desirable job, going over to some desperate troll’s hive and pailing them until there was enough genetic material was nothing to be proud of. Therefore, his employees were short lived, either from being discovered for their actions by the Empire, or simply leaving once they found a better opportunity. There was no loyalty to one who treated them like slaves, it would have been better to become a slave, at least then, as part of the Aristocracy’s property, you would not have to deal with such unpleasant situations. 

 

The Dolorosa had been running through the woods for some time now, having drank some lusus she found back at the stream and refreshed on water, she had began walking in the woods, rather calmly, after she woke up. The forest was peaceful when she was alone, the occasional lusus skittering past her, ignoring her for the most part. There were no undead, either. Perhaps otherwise occupied for the time being. 

The peace was disrupted by the cawing of some creatures in the trees, she quickly looked around for the source of the disruption. That was when she saw the sheen black surface of a drone, not far off. An alarm similar to the one she had heard in her dream echoed through the trees, shaking the leaves and causing all animals in the nearby area to leave. She turned and ran, anywhere but towards the drone, dodging trees and jumping over bushes as she kept her mace-rock swinging in her hand just in case she had to make a stand. It was no defense against the drone, but if it attacked her she was done for anyways, it would feel good to get a few swings in before she was ended. Branches whipped at her face, fresh blood being drawn from the impact. The trees, painful now, reminded her. She was not going to die, not this way. She had decided that yesterday. 

 

Business required travel. Travel required moving in all hours of the day and night. Carege Sinlar was not one to waste time, money, or business. Therefore, he was traveling through the woods to his destination, returning from an important meeting with some corrupt lawmakers. His small group of bodyguards had made a barrier around him, keeping up with his stride as he moved through the forest, one holding an umbrella above his head as the moved in tandem. The umbrella, he thought, looked ridiculous. Too bad it was needed, although it would not be for much longer. 

A female troll hurtled out of the brush, crashing into the unsuspecting cluster of bodyguards. The umbrella fell to the ground, Sinlar was knocked off his feet. Blinking in the light, he looked around, his bodyguards were missing. No, they were not missing. They were otherwise occupied. Not, as would have been expected, with the anonymous troll he could have sworn was dressed only in her underwear, but with an Imperial drone. 

They were obviously struggling, not even with their fighting skills could they handle a drone for much longer. However, if they were killed and he was on the run, he would be taken over quickly. He did not know what the female troll had done, but he had found himself at the top of many lists, the culling list was most definitely one of them. Even then, laying on the ground, he heard the drone speaking in it’s monotonic voice as it was fighting. 

“Sighted. Carege Sinlar. Slated for culling, will be disposed of shortly” The cold voice   
washed over him. He stood up, equipping his broadsword. Yelling a final war cry, the not-so-esteemed businessman rushed to his death. 

The drone had the last surviving bodyguard in its claws. The troll in its grasp was wriggling, crying out for what Sinlar believed to be its lusus. ‘What a shitty way to die.’ He thought to himself of his sentry as he plunged towards the monstrous not-machine-not-troll in front of him. 

When a drone is holding something above its head, its protective plates are extended to the point where the sensitive area below them is exposed. This area was exactly where Carege’s sword pierced, going through its abdomen and protruding through the drone’s backside. Sinlar did not go into the fight believing he was to do any damage, he simply did not want to die running. The drone snapped its claw, splitting the troll it held cleanly in two. Carege looked up in astonishment, the drone was already crumbling, or at least it appeared to be doing so. His sword began to steam of the interior heat of the drone and he let go of it, taking a step back. His eyes were still fixated on the drone when it shoved the culling fork through his midsection with its last remaining energy. He died along with the drone, uttering a choked wet sound as the drone sparked to its mechanical death. 

“Error. Unit has been compromised.” 

The Dolorosa took this dying message of the drone as permission to step out of her hiding place. The ground in front of her was stained with blood as she looked at the group of trolls that had been unfortunate enough to be in her way. She had heard the drone declare the well-dressed one as Carege Sinlar. She had heard of him, murmured whispers mainly. Genetic fraud was a big deal in the caverns, she knew the inner workings of the detection process, the shipping process, how some trolls confessed to it sweeps later. Approaching the body of Sinlar, she knelt down, warily eyeing the drone before slipping her hand into his coat, rummaging around for any food or money he might be carrying. What she found was a wallet, made of some lusus’s skin. She was not surprised, it very well may have been his own lusus, for all she knew. 

Inside the wallet there were a few cards, mostly counterfeit identification, along with one legitimate one claiming that the troll dead in front of her was indeed the lowblood Carege Sinlar. Another card had an address, hastily scrawled. It was in the imperial city, below the address was written the word “base”. This troll obviously believed he would never be compromised, had it not been for her, he very well might never have been. 

As someone without anywhere to go, any direction is a good direction to go towards, especially one that was handed to you. Provided, this one was not so much handed to her as it was stolen from the body of a dead businessman, but she was desperate, and a plan was forming in her head already. Leaving the sword in the drone, she instead reached into his boot, where the gleam of something silver led her to believe there was a knife. Correct in her assumption, she unbuckled the strap wrapping around his leg holding the knife and its small sheath in place. Wrapping it around her thigh, she observed it would be conveniently hidden beneath even the most revealing of dresses, before putting the knife back in its sheath and continuing to loot the rest of the guards’ bodies. 

She found a coat that was salvageable, the only article of clothing that was not blood soaked. Wrapping it around herself, she tucked in it the remaining artifacts she had stolen from the bodies. Another knife, some food, something to start a fire with. She had drank her fill from one of the guards before realizing that one of them carried a whip. Multiple whips, in fact. The olive blood sported numerous holes from the culling fork, yet the arsenal was mostly unharmed. The whips featured the sign of the female troll the Dolorosa had taken them from, she probably had some level of power in the organization. Taking the whip-holding belt off the dead troll, the rainbow drinker wrapped it around her waist, tightening it up and taking a fond glance at some of the whips before continuing. Whips had always been her favorite weapon, it had been lucky to come across some of such quality and variation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carege ===> see Andrew Carnegie  
> Sinlar ===> see Upton Sinclair
> 
> whipkind because whipkind is best


	4. Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Imperial city, finally.

The rest of the journey through the forest had been relatively uneventful. She had found no other trolls walking in the woods, although the whirr of biomachinery overhead increased as she neared the city, however the fact she now had something to defend herself with made her more confident that she would be able to survive in the city once she got there, especially if she managed to find the address. 

Her training as one of the attendants of the mother grub had happened in the city. Some warehouse used to overview the new ‘recruits’, although the proper term might have been ‘kidnapees’. They all had been so scared, any hint of lack of loyalty to the empress, any possibility they might endanger the breeding, and that would be it. The disobedient troll would be escorted out of the main room and was never heard from again. That was the way of the empress. It worked well enough, kept the species moving forward. 

She began to find more trash, littering the forest floor and strung up in the trees. No matter how much one tries, a city is still a city, the masses flowing and progressing and creating an incredibly large amount of trash. There were incinerators and recycling stations, mandated, of course, but some of the scraps still seemed to make their way out of the system and into the forest. It was the first time that the Dolorosa found herself being grateful for the waste, full cans of food made sure she didn’t starve completely, and sometimes accumulated water in rainfall, depending on their shape. Surviving off trash was not glamorous in the least, but surviving never is glamorous no matter what you’re surviving off of. 

When the forest finally ended, cut off by an old ground-strip which had been used for transport, she got her first view of the imperial city in sweeps. It had grown, that much was for certain. It was mainly a place for aristocrats who no longer were required to serve in the fleet stayed. A nest of backstabbing and rumors, highblood events such as balls and ring fighting. The second purpose for the city was a place to manage the lowbloods who had no place in the fleet. They worked as manual workers for as long as they could in factories and other production sites that had not yet been mechanized. The planet, a breeding factory itself, provided fresh bodies every time another lowblood worker dropped dead from the strain or from becoming worth less than their work was. 

She followed the ground-strip into the city, passing by the training areas. One nearby one crackled with energy that could only be determined as psionic. Helmsman training facility, she mused to her herself, regarding it with a sense of amusement. The prospects would start their enslavement there, servitude to the fleet in the form of training exercises and powering various machines. They were too valuable to be culled for disobedience, the practice, she knew, was instead to make the obedient. It usually worked. Checking the address on the paper again, she turned from the building, past a few lowblood hivestems to another building. 

Her first thought was that on first glance, it did not resemble a fortress, not a symbol of rebellion in the least. It looked to be an old hivestem, run into disrepair. Her second thought was that it was very unusual for any hivestem, especially one this old, to have armed guards carefully hidden behind broken windows. She reached down to the pocket in the coat where she had hidden the wallet, carefully watching the guards as she pulled it out, leafing through it before taking out Sinlar’s identification and holding it up so they could see what she was holding. When one of the guards left the spot by the windows and vanished from her sight, she put the card away, priding herself on her luck. 

Boarded up buildings are among the best places to hide things. A crack in the wall might hide a camera, and a boarded up entryway might very well be the perfect excuse to fit in a powerful, fortress-like door. When it swung open in front of her, following a few clicks which echoed out onto the streets, evidence of a highly sophisticated locking mechanisms, a small indigo blood stepped out of the dark which seemed to lie behind the half open gate.

“What are you doing here?” The troll spoke clearly, she sounded young, younger than the Dolorosa by sweeps. However, the Dolorosa knew she held the advantage. An army is not much use if their enemy holds the last known information about the whereabouts of their leader. 

“More importantly, perhaps, is the question of what’s in your pocket. So tell me, where did you get that.” The indigo blood’s voice deepened, highbloods had the habit of doing that, keeping a kind demeanor until they truly desired something. 

The leather of the wallet was smooth in the rainbow drinker’s pocket, she traced her sign across its surface, repetitive actions from many years of waiting. “Why don’t you let me in, darling. I’m looking for a place to hide, something tells me you’ll be able to help with that.”

Debate flashed across the highblood’s face. She was not used to making her own decisions, hopefully representative to the rest of the inhabitants of the hivestem, hoped the Dolorosa. “I cannot tell you how long you will be able to seek harbor. Perhaps we can trade, though, safety and shelter for a time, in exchange for the information of how you came across that wallet. Please, a patrol comes around soon.” The last sentence hinted at the direness of the situation, and the Dolorosa glanced outside before striding inside the hivestem, completely ignoring the smaller troll before halting, taking her time to admire the interior of the building. 

On the outside it looked to be crumbling, on the inside it was lavishly decorated, lights blinking as she looked up the central column. The lights stopped after a couple floors, she noticed, but they were still magnificent to behold in such a place. Spinning around, she faced the other troll, this time with more of a glint in her eyes. “He’s dead. You know who I am speaking of, there’s no point in discussing that. I have to say, the drone may not have been expected, and it very well may have been my fault.” She took the chance to pull out the wallet, flashing the identification card again. “He wouldn’t have entrusted this to anyone, you know it’s true. Plus, I imagine you recognize some of the weapons I’m currently wearing. They simply didn’t have a chance, not when surprised like that. A pity, really, I imagine he was rather impressive in life.” Sweeps of unofficial training of manipulation became handy at times like this. The caverns had a vicious cycle, some jobs were desirable, others were downright miserable, and the hierarchy of the caverns was determined not by fighting, but by more a much more underhanded style of battle. To survive and to flourish in the taxing environment one had to learn this, and the Dolorosa prided herself on the ability to take advantage of it when she wished. 

A flash of insecurity across the indigo’s face. “Drones. He hated them, always did.” A simple response, unrevealing.

“It seems as if he had no successors. That is what happens when one believes they are invincible, is it not?” The Dolorosa twiddled the card between her fingers, acting casual made it seem as if she was not afraid, as if she knew she was in mortal danger and it was the least worrying fact in the world. “However, now I am the one holding the key, correct?” She flashed the card, peering up the central column just in time to catch the eyes of trolls watching the two of them. Perfect, an audience. “This place will crumble without one who knows the inner workings of the empire, he worked at learning them, sure, but, my dear, I _am_ the inner workings of the empire.” This was no petty fight for who was slated to scrape the feces off the cavern floor, this was her life and the Dolorosa understood that. This was one battle which could not be fought with the whips at her waist or the knife tied to her thigh. 

“N-no successors.” The indigo blood appeared to tremble. A quick glance up the column and the Dolorosa was able to determine that the troll in front of her was of the highest blood, the one in charge while Carege was out, in other words. 

“You are not suited to this job, look at you, this is no occupation for one such as you, you don’t want his life, do you?” The key reflected light off the column and shined into indigo eyes, causing the troll to step back. “A life suited to one who knows the empire. A life made for one who has the ability to survive, perhaps even flourish in the right circumstances. He is gone, yet I am here. A fortunate coincidence, I believe. So,” She took a few steps towards the smaller troll. “What do you say? I know this business, I was on the other side of it for sweeps. I know the ways the find you, I know how the raid five sweeps ago came into being, those small crumbs you leave behind. I would make you truly invincible, a chance drone meeting in the forest would be insignificant, need I remind you I survived that too, when he did not.” 

A response was purely formality, the defeated indigo blood took a few steps back before speaking, not in contempt as many jadebloods would have, but almost in gratitude. “You’re free to do as you please. Here.” She took a deep breath before stepping forward, taking a ring of keys out of her pocket and handing them to the Dolorosa. “May you have better luck than he did.”

“Where is the commanding module?” The Dolorosa smiled, she would survive, and she would most likely do it exceptionally. 

“Carege’s respite block and other rooms are this way. Follow me.” The indigo blood turned on her heels, walking around to a staircase, which wound upwards until both trolls reached a remodeled hive. “You’ll find the module to the left. Might I have a name?” The troll inquired, pointing into the hive. 

“Not yet, however I would have yours.” The Dolorosa gave the indigo blood a faint smile, walking into the hive. 

“Formally, the Timekeeper, I’m in charge of managing mating schedules and planning shipments. Informally, Cadian Regula.” 

“Well, Cadian, do you mind accompanying me for the time being, I fear you may know the way around Carege’s mind and setup better than I.” She smiled honestly, now, making her way to the room full of computing power which managed the entire business. 

“Of course.” Cadian nodded, trailing after the rainbow drinker into the room. 

Three of the walls were lined with quickly jotted notes, filed with names and dates. Some words frequented the pages, ‘favorite, blood preference, empty quadrants’. It was disorganized, yet had potential, the Dolorosa observed. It would be a perfect foundation. Turning to the fourth wall, a large computer loomed overhead, different sections and screens dotted the walls, all on, all furiously working. 

“Welcome to the command module.” Cadian said silently, the room was awe inspiring, even in its disarray. To have the power to resist the empire, to be able to continue such an endeavor for so many sweeps, it was only representative of the business’s ability. 

Suddenly, a spark ran up the central row of machines, Cadian stepped back, towards the paper section of the room. “Interference from the psionic facility. It helps conceal us, also dangerous, if you get too close.” She explained. The spark suddenly flashed, red and blue echoing throughout the room, across the paper, humming electrically. 

“Miss, I’m going to advise you to leave the room at once. I’ve never seen it this strong. Never. They’re too far away, there’s too much insulation.” The indigo blood turned, pushing open the door cautiously before bolting outside, leaving the rainbow drinker looking up at the screens, curious, as the keyboard in front of her began to type, the psionic energy forcing the keys to do its willing. 

**ESCAPED**

II know youre IIn there

how can you even call thIIs dump secret

IIts buzzIIng wIIth actIIvIIty

open the fuckIIng gates before II do IIt myself

lIIsten

IIm not goIIng back

just let me IIn

**-Ψ**

The energy stopped as soon as it had begun, and the Dolorosa gripped the keys in her hand as she ran down the stairs to the door, calling orders to the trolls milling around the gates to open them as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,,,,whoops
> 
> // and I started calling Cadian Carege at the end...changed it...why did I start both with ca? dunno...bad choices


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captors are difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a mess and so is this chapter///

The gates seemed to swing open slowly this time, it was getting light outside, and the Dolorosa blinked a few times, getting used to the light before turning to the troll responsible for the invasion on the main processor, and who had detected their presence so quickly. He was young, they all were, psionic power could not be permitted to grow outside of strict moderation by the Empire. Unrestricted a troll could become powerful, and therefore dangerous. It was only after she got over the shock of how very young he was, however, that she noticed how hurt he was. It was no easy task to escape from any Imperial facility. She had already learned that from her own experiences. 

The yellow-blooded troll in front of her smiled, the grin looking almost twisted given the state he was in. “They’re scanning the street again soon” He coughed, shrugging it off as he wiped what looked like more blood off his face. “O-once you’re done ogling the fact I managed to escape, helping me inside would be much appreciated. Not to mention, it’s getting light outside and I didn’t escape so I could get fried by the damn sun.” He didn’t speak like the few yellowbloods she had met, who always sounded downtrodden, as would be imagined by the way they were treated by the empire. In fact, he sounded closer to the violet bloods, somewhat haughty despite his predicament. It was strange to listen to, the lowblood accent with such confidence. 

The Dolorosa stepped out of the door, looking around before taking the young troll’s hand and escorting him inside. He seemed to be limping, wincing every time he stepped, although it appeared as if he was trying to use his psionics to hover his leg above the ground as much as possible. Curious, she looked down at the sparks around his foot. “Why don’t you just hover in on your own, it would spare getting blood everywhere.” He was bleeding quite a lot, mustard-yellow smearing on her coat. She still hadn’t had the time to get changed into something more suitable. 

He glared at her in response, red and blue eyes showing frustration with just a glimmer of anger as the doors closed behind them. “Because, they’ve put me under all kinds of shit, I don’t know how reliable my powers are right now, and I’d rather not drop myself, or cause some massive explosion.” 

She nodded, walking slowly to the staircase to her new hive. “There’s an ablution block up there. Do you think you can make it?” He grimaced at her request before pushing her away, clinging to the railing as he tried to make his way up the stairs. 

“I’ve got it.” He muttered as he reached the top of the stairs, the Dolorosa ascending after him and ushering the injured troll to the ablution block that she had caught a glimpse of on her way to the command room. 

“Sit down.” She commanded him, rummaging around the room for various things to use to help heal him. Carrying a collection of antiseptics and bandages, she wetted a towel and began wiping the blood off his face. “You managed to escape. I’m impressed, there are not many who have the ability to do that.” 

He laughed at that, obviously proud of himself. “Hah, the drone guard was halved today for some reason. Something about someone escaping from the caverns, there’s this whole planetwide search going on. Want to know how I know?” He grinned, it wasn’t a question. “Got into the Empire’s entire system. You’d think they wouldn’t hook me up to the main system, idiots.” 

She considered that for a second, moving down to wrap up a gash on his arm, presumably from a culling fork or other weapon. “Well, you’re very welcome, then. It isn’t every day I assist another troll in escaping the Empire while doing so myself.” The decision to trust him came easily, he would not go back to the Empire, the fate of a helmsman was enough to dissuade anyone from that. 

At that he looked curious, flinching away from the bandage at first. “But that only happened a little while ago. You look like you’ve got control of this place. Don’t tell me that just happened tonight.” He frowned, watching her as she nodded, granting herself a small smile of achievement. “Holy shit, guess I got here at the right time. Listen, they don’t think you’re anywhere near here, they do think you’re dangerous though. Something about a vanished heiress, doesn’t look like you’re harboring grubs, though, looks like the only one you’re harboring right now is an escaped ‘piece a machinery’” The last part of his sentence was definitely an imitation, he used the highblood accent, she had heard it before. 

Finished with the wounds on his arms, she moved down to the leg he had been limping on. Further examination showed her that a prong of a culling fork had been lodged in his thigh, melted off at the end, presumably from psionic energy, either the yellow-blood’s or from another troll in the building, after all it was a place for psionics to be trained for loyalty to the Empire, no doubt he would have fought some of them during his escape. “I’m going to have to take this out, you realize. Take this, I would rather you remained quiet, and also didn’t injure yourself further.” She handed him a balled up piece of cloth bandage, which he promptly maneuvered around his teeth and bit down on before nodding at her. 

Grabbing around the warped end of the prong, she got a good enough hold on the metal before pulling it up slowly. Realizing that it had gone cleanly enough through the flesh, she yanked it out quickly, trying to make the procedure as painless as possible. Holding it triumphantly, she was promptly flung across the room, the psionic’s entire body crackling with power as he spit out the bandage in time enough to curse. “SHIT!” The response to the pain was quickly overtaken by one of surprise, as he noticed her getting up from the wall across from him, rolling her shoulders and sticking the prong into the wall, as to prevent it from flying around any more should there be any more bursts of power. 

“That warranted a little bit of warning, did it not?” A cold tone entered the Dolorosa’s voice as she dusted herself off, adjusting her weapons before walking back over to him, picking up some antiseptic and looking at the wound warily. “Let’s just hope the shockwave did not leave this room. Otherwise, there may be some trouble.”

He looked down, guilty. “The things they did to my pan, damn, I didn’t expect it to be that powerful. Sorry.” 

“It’s understandable, I imagine you’re still traumatized. Now, I’m going to clean it, this may hurt just as much if not more. I will continue as long as you promise me I will not be sent flying across the room this time.” 

He nodded, balling his hands into fists as she prepared to dab the area with antiseptic. Thankfully, the wound did not go all the way through his leg, although that did prevent complete cleaning. Had he not been pumped through with multiple chemicals in preparation for usage as a power source, the wound would have had much more difficulty in healing. 

Alternian medical supplies are scarce, and made for function. In other words, Alternia is not a place in which you will find cherry flavored painkiller or easy to swallow pills, or, in this case, antiseptic which does not sting a great deal. Knowing this, the Dolorosa tried her best to smear it on slowly, figuring small doses of pain would not hurt so much, and eventually numb the area. She believed to have succeeded, until the area in front of her went almost white with power, a wave of psionic energy passing her by as he gripped her shoulder, shielding her from the blast. As it dispersed, she grabbed the bandage, hastily wrapping up the wound before standing up and looking at him. “Thank you for shielding me, however, there may now be a greater problem.” Grabbing his hand, he limped behind her as she brought him to a window, looking up at the psionic energy still pulsing up the building, sparking up into the sky above. “You are proving to be a lot of trouble, I hope you are worth it.” She turned back to him. “What’s your name?” 

He seemed to think for a few seconds. “Well, PsiUnit 22 was what they called me back at the facility.” He grinned. “Call me whatever, ‘a lot of trouble’ works, as you’ve already pointed out, so does Mituna. And, I am most definitely worth it.” 

She huffed, rolling her eyes and running into the next room. It looked to be Carege’s respite block, and she quickly put on one of his longer shirts and a cloak, finally getting something to wear. They were emblazoned in bronze, not exactly a flattering color in her eyes, but perhaps good for preserving her own identity. Striding back to the other troll, she handed him clothing she had taken from Carege’s stores as well. His was torn up, and she had needed to cut the leg of his suit off to clean the wound. “Put these on, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Empire decided to check out the sudden burst of incredibly powerful psionic energy which just lit up the sky. Had I known you would put all of us in danger, I would have just used water. Not that it’s entirely your fault, I understand about the drugs. Now, you should be able to walk, I’ll see you downstairs.” With that, she turned and walked downstairs, informing the trolls milling around that the Empire could show up with a large group of armed trolls and drones, and they ought to get ready to fight.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's fighting. Someone gets his name.

The Alternian Empire under Her Imperial Condescension was most likely the most successful entity ever to grace the history of its universe. Planets fell beneath the strength of her forces, trolls obeyed almost mindlessly, that or they mindfully took care to obey. Culling was a perfect threat, entirely plausible, and entirely fatal. Due to this, the national army located on Alternia was just as well trained and ambitious as the trolls fighting on the front lines for expansion. In some cases, they were even more vicious, after all, the Empress did spend her time on Alternia, and her safety could not be threatened. Therefore, when scouts spotted the sudden outburst of Psionic power over the slums, a formidable group of soldiers was dispatched to deal with the potential threat. 

The Dolorosa had donned a pair of boots, deciding they would be needed if she was to fight properly. The belt she had snatched off one of Carege’s guard was tied tightly around her waist, cinching the long shirt. An arsenal of whips that ranged from traditional to electrically powered weapons that could end a life in one fast stroke hung off the leather strap, also souvenirs from the forest encounter. The trolls in the building had gathered as well, standing behind her. They certainly weren’t Empire trained footsoldiers, but one had to be brave to defy the Empire and ally with Carege, despite the fact that he never actually frontally went against the Empire, the animosity could still be sensed. Mituna, the Dolorosa noticed, had still not come down the stairs. Perhaps he was struggling with something, or maybe cowardice prohibited him from standing and facing he damage he inadvertently had caused. 

The door that separated the establishment from the outside world was formidable, but the Imperial army was more so, and had no trouble in breaking it down. The second shots were fired, she pulled out a long, electrically powered whip, and charged at the soldiers. Behind her, the trolls who she’d so recently taken charge of followed along, and she heard some exhilarated yells from a few of them, most likely highbloods who hadn’t had a chance to fight in quite a while. 

It was chaotic, there weren’t as many soldiers as she’d expected, although they certainly were persistent. She would swing her whip and one, and they would continue to fire despite the searing electric shock that rushed through their bodies. They knew that if they failed, they would most likely be killed anyways. The Empire was largely one built on fear, both of its subjects and of its allies. 

Suddenly, a blue-white bolt of light passed by her, and she jumped to the side just in time to avoid it. Thinking it may have been Mituna, she ran towards the source, taking a second whip and using it to trip up the soldiers in her wake. It was possible for the psionic to fly over the warring groups and begin to attack from behind. 

Instead of the yellowblood, she found a highblood barking orders, holding a ridiculously large and somewhat ornamental rifle. It was pretentious, she thought, perfect for the seadweller that he turned out to be as he turned his head to face her. Waving his hand, the surrounding soldiers moved off to fight with her underlings as he walked up to her. 

“Where’s Carege?” His voice was surprisingly youthful, and she was reminded that seadwellers aged differently from the rest of them. 

“Dead.” She answered, gripping the whip in her hand tightly as she took out a second one in an attempt to look imposing. “But I assume you already knew that. He’s been in the forest for quite a while.”

“I know your face.” He muttered, walking up closer to her as if he was studying her. 

“It appears as if we are at a disadvantage. You see, I most certainly don’t know yours. In fact, you’re one of the least remarkable trolls I’ve met since I left the caverns.” His recognition of her was most likely due to the alerts that Mituna had been talking about in relation to her, and she supposed that Imperial messages must be full of notifications about her disappearance. “What’s your title?” She asked, glancing at the weapon he held once more before standing confidently in front of him. Despite its power, this troll didn’t appear intimidating in the least. 

“Haven’t earned one yet.” He muttered. So, she had been right. He wasn’t nearly old enough to be incredibly powerful at all. 

“How interesting, neither have I. Well, not formally at least.” She sighed regretfully, the caverns were not a very nice place to make a name for one’s self. 

“You won’t have the chance to.” He growled, raising the rifle and pressing a claw to the trigger. 

Lunging forward, she lashed out one whip in front of her, wrapping it around the barrel of the close to firing gun and pulled it away from him. It blasted away the ground between them, and she smirked as it tumbled into the hole it had made. Taking the whip in her other hand, she moved to attack, but he was diving towards the gun, trying to get it back. The offensive that was directed toward his feet hit his face, and the dual strands of the whip created parallel gashes across his skin, missing his eyes by an incredibly small distance. 

He hissed, grabbing the gun and pointing it towards her again, violet blood running down his face. There wasn’t a chance for him to pull the trigger. 

A flash of red and blue light reverberated through the street - which had quickly become reminiscent of a battlefield. All Imperial soldiers were struck by it, frozen in place before they cried out in pain, psionic energy running through their bodies. It appeared as if Mituna had decided to show his face after all, and he could not have chosen a better time. The sparks hit the commander’s chest first, and he crumpled, dropping the weapon as those he was in charge of did the same, forced to by the power that was holding their limbs in place. 

The Dolorosa’s forces had paused, and were looking at the soldiers in awe. The yellowblood walked out from the broken-in door, making his way over to where the Dolorosa was standing over the seadweller that had just been prepared to shoot her. 

“I got you in this mess, figured I’d help get you out of it.” Sparks flickered between his horns, and his eyes blazed with red and blue. “Who’s this asshole?” He nudged the Orphaner’s frigid body with a toe, smirking. 

“You know, I’m not quite sure what his name is. He’s not important enough to have one, it seems.” She sighed regretfully, tucking her whips back into the belt. It appeared as if Mituna had everything under control, after all. 

“Well, he better not mess.” The psionic shrugged, stepping back. Taking it as a signal, the Dolorosa waved a hand to the trolls that had been staring slack-jawed at the small yellowblood. His power was incredible, of that they were all sure. Slowly, they all began to make their way into the hivestem again, and once everyone was securely inside, the door sealed itself with a shower of red and blue sparks. 

Sighing, Mituna leaned against a wall, letting the light in his eyes go out as he released the soldiers from their bonds. Some scuffling was heard outside, but it didn’t appear as if they were trying a counterattack. The Dolorosa pictured the violetblood picking himself up and taking his over decorated rifle back to the Empress, where he’d have to admit that they were defeated. She would probably not let anyone attend to the two injuries that the whip had left running down his face - they would leave some rather interesting scars, the rainbow drinker mused, as she walked around her building. It didn’t appear as if too many had been killed, in fact, there were probably more Imperial bodies outside than those of her own people. The thought filled her with pride, and she walked over to Mituna after making sure everyone was okay. 

“Thank you.” 

“Heh, it was the least I could do. Thanks for not letting me die out there.” He shrugged, looking exhausted. 

“It was the least I could do.” She repeated, holding out a hand to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot end a chapter without something corny happening help


End file.
